


The Happily Ever After House

by houdini74



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, New house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23438233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houdini74/pseuds/houdini74
Summary: Every house has a story. This is the story of David and Patrick's house. Overlaps with 6.12 and 6.13.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 76
Kudos: 273





	The Happily Ever After House

**Author's Note:**

> Includes spoilers for 6.12 and 6.13. Please blame Dan Levy for the angst, he's the one who wrote it into canon. Title courtesy of Shana from the EW podcast.

She’s standing in the doorway of Kayla’s room when she hears the knock on the door. Neither Kayla or Michelle came home for the summer this year. Schitt’s Creek is too far from their friends and there’s no work, unless they wanted to sell groceries at Brebner’s. 

Kayla’s bedroom is just the way she’d left it nearly a year before. Posters of Justin Beiber and Demi Lovato fight for dominance above her bed. Her second-favorite stuffed animal, a rabbit who goes by the unfortunate name of Lippy sprawls on top of the pink bedspread. His long-time companion, an elephant named Effie, has made the trip to college with Kayla. 

It’s mid-afternoon on a Friday. Frank is at work, which is where she would usually be, but the school has a half day. No one ever knocks on the front door. If it’s a friend or family member, they just come in the back door, calling her name. So it’s probably one of the clean-cut young men from the church up the road who stop by regularly to see if she’ll take their religious pamphlets, even though she never does. 

She hurries to the door. She hopes it’s not one of those alarm company salespeople again. They’ve never locked their doors at all, living way out here, and she can’t imagine why they’d need an alarm, but so far her refusals have fallen on deaf ears. 

When she opens the door, there’s a familiar-looking young man in a blue button-down shirt standing on the step. He’s too old to be from the church and he’s not wearing the obnoxious orange uniform from the alarm company. She scans the roadway. Perhaps his car has broken down? But a silver Toyota is parked politely in the driveway.

“Yes?” She doesn’t reach for the latch on the screen door, suddenly conscious that she’s home by herself.

“Hi, uh, I’m sorry to bother you.” The man’s eyes are warm and when he smiles, it lights up his face. “Um, this is awkward, but I’m getting married next month? And my fiance, he loves your house. He talks about it whenever we drive by and he always insists that we take the scenic route back from Elm Valley.”

“Okay?” It’s nice of this man to stop and compliment her house, but she’s confused why he would take the time.

“He says it reminds him of Kate Winslet’s cottage? In The Holiday? I know it’s not for sale. But if it ever were…” The man trails off, eager but uncomfortable. 

“Oh.” She had watched that movie with her girls, they had all agreed that their house reminded them of the house in the movie. She comes to a decision and pushes open the screen door. “I was just going to make some tea. Would you like to come in?”

“Uh, sure.” The man stops, holding out his hand. “I’m Patrick, Patrick Brewer. David and I own Rose Apothecary?” 

She remembers seeing him in the store now, the times when she’s stopped to buy the lemon-lavender moisturizer that she can’t seem to live without. “Oh, yes, I love your store. My name’s Laura.”

In the kitchen, she makes some tea and puts some cookies onto a plate. With little prompting, Patrick tells her about the store and the wedding, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree whenever he mentions his fiance. As she waits for the tea to steep, she thinks about what he’d said when he’d come to the door. Both she and Frank are ready to retire, but it’s the memories that are holding them here. 

“What if I said yes, right now? Then what?” She hands Patrick his cup of tea and gestures to the plate of cookies. 

He laughs, surprised. “Then I’d go home and put something in writing and send it to you tonight.”

It’s her turn to laugh. “We’ve talked about it. Our girls are in college and we’d like to move to Florida. But it’s hard to leave, you know?”

Patrick nods, his face sombre. “I do know. I gave up everything once. To come here.”

“Was it worth it?”

His face glows as he answers. “It was everything I ever needed.” There’s a long pause as they both consider his answer. “Tell me about your house?”

So she does. She tells him about barbeques and birthdays and Christmas dinners and the day they’d planted the lilac bushes at the side of the house. Patrick is easy to talk to. He asks gentle questions as he soaks up her stories. After she finishes the story of Kayla’s ninth birthday party, Patrick reluctantly checks the time. “I have to go.” He smiles at her softly. “Thank you for sharing your home with me.”

She walks him to the door, holding the door open for him. “I need to talk to my husband, but if we do decide to sell, you’ll be the first one we call.”

Patrick smiles at her then, wide and radiant and for a second she thinks about the man who gets to see that smile every day. Pulling out his wallet, he takes out a business card and hands it to her, the Rose Apothecary logo is printed on the reverse, simple, but elegant, black and white. 

After Patrick leaves, she tidies away the tea things and leans against the kitchen counter. On the fridge, she can see the picture of the condo that she and Frank had looked at when they were in Florida last winter. She texts her husband.

**Laura:** Someone wants to buy our house  
 **Frank:**??  
 **Laura:** I think we should consider it

Back upstairs, she sits on the edge of Michelle’s bed. Her girls had grown up here, they’d filled the house with memories. She remembers Kayla begging for a sleepover with her best friend, Robin and then demanding that Robin leave when the two of them had a fight over something inconsequential, before making up over popcorn and The Little Mermaid. And teenage Michelle, who played heavy metal too loudly, particularly when they were fighting, but who would let herself be lured from her room if she got to pick the movie for family movie night. 

Her girls aren’t coming back to this house. Michelle has just moved in with her girlfriend and Kayla is making new friends and building a life in the city. If she and Frank stay here, their rooms will remain empty. 

She’s starting on supper when Frank comes in with a soft kiss and an apple pie and a carton of milk from the supermarket. “Did you sell the house yet?”

“Yes, I did, and Renauld and I are taking the first flight tomorrow while you’re at work.” It’s a long-standing joke, Renauld is their eighty-year-old neighbor who has flirted sweetly but outrageously with her since the moment they bought the house. “Seriously, what do you think?”

“Is he serious, do you think? What was his name? Peter?”

“Patrick. And I think so.” She puts the pie in the oven to warm. “And even if he’s not, let’s face it, we’ve been looking for an excuse for awhile now.”

Frank takes a beer from the fridge and leans on the counter. “You’d be okay? Leaving everything behind? The girls grew up here, I know how much that means to you.”

“I think I like the idea of someone else making memories here.” 

Frank’s eyes meet hers and she can see the warmth and excitement. “Call him back tomorrow.”

***

Patrick can’t quite believe that he’d asked a stranger if he could buy their house yesterday. That poor woman (Laura, he now knows her name is) must have been so confused to see him standing on her doorstep, stammering about Kate Winslet. He doesn’t regret it. Not for a single second. He’s thought about a house for a while, knowing that the selection of affordable houses in Schitt’s Creek that would meet David’s very particular criteria is a very short list. 

It’s David’s day off. He’s helping a customer when his phone buzzes so he lets the call go to voicemail. Finally, there’s a lull around two o’clock. As he listens to Laura’s message, he can’t keep the smile from spreading across his face. For the first time, keeping a secret from David feels like a gift instead of an anvil. Before he calls Laura back, he pulls up the spreadsheet he’s put together with the information he’s gotten from Ray. 

“Laura? It’s Patrick. Let me send you something in writing.”

A week later, he’s waiting for David to get back from the motel where he’s left his wallet. And his phone. And his keys. He’s leaning against the counter when Laura’s email comes through with the final offer. 

He can picture it in his mind. David will use one of the extra upstairs bedrooms as a walk-in closet and they’ll share the other one as an office. Downstairs, the third bedroom will be reserved for his parents or Alexis when they come to visit. 

Maybe they’ll plant some cherry trees or get a dog or grow a vegetable garden. Either way, they’ll be a bench beneath the lilac bushes where they can sit together, David can recreate his favorite scene from Notting Hill while Patrick teases him mercilessly until they go inside and recreate David’s second-favorite scene.

With his excitement about the house, it feels as though David is taking twice as long as normal to return from the motel. He sends the updated documents to the store printer, setting them on the corner of his desk to sign and scan later in the day once he’s read them over again. But before he can do that, David comes back and he pulls the rug out from under him with a single quick tug that has the words ‘New York’ written all over it.

He sits at his desk, eating the last few bites of David’s lemon blueberry muffin. He’s flipped the offer sheet over so he doesn’t have to read the words anymore. He’ll follow David anywhere, he knows that. It’s just that he’d dreamed of following him down the street, not across the country. Biting his lips together, he lets go of his dreams about the house. It's just a house. There are plenty of other houses, as long as David is there, it doesn’t matter. 

He sends Laura an email filled with regrets and apologies for wasting her time. She responds right away, saying how sorry she is and that she’d already pictured him and David in their house, which does nothing to make him feel better about the dream that’s flowing like sand through his fingers.

This place is etched into his soul. He’s kissed David in every corner of this town, from the motel to the cafe to hiking trails on the outskirts of town and he treasures every one. David doesn’t know that he can hardly walk from one end of their store to the other without seeing a deluge of memories. This is where _I_ kissed _him_ for the first time. This is where I sang. This is where he danced. This is where we said ‘I love you.’ 

He’s not adventurous, typically. He knows that about himself. He likes plans and spreadsheets and stability. Coming here, meeting David, was the riskiest thing he’s ever done. But if David asks him, he’ll throw caution to the wind. And David is asking.

He crumples up the muffin wrapper. He can feel David lurking on the sales floor, his anxiety rippling over to Patrick, even though he can’t see him. Moments later, David appears in the doorway. “My dad’s on his way back.”

“Did he say…?” David’s already shaking his head.

“He wants to tell us in person.” David gestures towards the door. “I’m...I’m gonna go…Do you want…?” It’s as though David’s forgotten how to finish his sentences but Patrick doesn’t have it in him to tease him about it. 

“Yeah.”

They walk to the motel in silence. David worries at his rings, casting anxious glances at Patrick as they walk. He wants to tell him it will be okay, but he’s not sure he can make it okay for David until he’s made it okay for himself, and he’s not there yet. 

***

Laura is setting the table when a movement on the front lawn catches her eye. Even with the blindfold, she recognizes Patrick right away as the dark-haired man guides him to a stop in front of the house. With a small smile, she watches, just out of sight behind the lace curtains. When David phoned that morning, she and Frank had gladly agreed to resurrect the offer that Patrick had withdrawn the day before. Something about the look on Patrick’s face when he had stood on her doorstep has stuck with her, as though he belongs in this house.

Patrick pulls off the blindfold, his face changing from confusion to delight before her eyes. She’s smiling to herself when Frank comes up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist. “What are you looking at that’s making you smile like that?”

“Remember when we came to look at this place and you kissed me on the front lawn and we thought Renaud would call the police on us?”

“Mmm hmm.” Frank pulls her a little closer.

“I’m just watching the future owners of this house keeping up the tradition.”


End file.
